


Lullabies

by allstoriesintheend



Series: In The Golden Afternoon [2]
Category: Alice in Wonderland (1951), Alice in Wonderland (2010), Once Upon a Time (TV), Once Upon a Time in Wonderland (TV)
Genre: Alice is Grace's mother, Drabble, F/M, Hattice, Mad Curiosity, Wonderland, prompt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-27
Updated: 2015-08-27
Packaged: 2018-04-17 13:45:38
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,490
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4668872
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/allstoriesintheend/pseuds/allstoriesintheend
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“There are dizzy daffodils on the hillside, strings of violets are all in tune…” </p><p>Their daughter made a quiet gurgle in Alice’s arms, and Jefferson watched as Alice took hold of a small hand to brush her thumb across the back of it. Alice’s face had her own secret smile; a smile that he hoped their daughter would have.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Lullabies

Coming to a quiet stop outside the little room decorated in pink and white, Jefferson felt a smile creep onto his lips. He only had to glance around the doorframe to see the soft blonde curls of the woman that he adored so, the blue skirts spilling over knees, and the curious blue eyes that only had one thing in their focus – a bundle of blankets, with their daughter’s face peeking out from between them. The chair rocked slowly as Alice bent down to press the lightest of kisses upon a little forehead, where blonde wisps of hair – hair that would be so much like her mother’s, he could already tell – were starting to grow long enough for Alice to play with and brush back.   
  
“Little Bread-And-Butterflies kiss the tulips…”   
  
The smile playing on his lips grew, listening to the quiet, beautiful voice that was gently lulling their daughter to sleep. Often when Alice would sing, Jefferson would stop what he was doing and listen to her – always so taken by her voice - and would seek her out when her song finished to be able to cup her face, brush his thumbs across her cheeks, and meet her lips in a soft kiss.   
  
“There are dizzy daffodils on the hillside, strings of violets are all in tune…”   
  
Their daughter made a quiet gurgle in Alice’s arms, and Jefferson watched as Alice took hold of a small hand to brush her thumb across the back of it. Alice’s face had her own secret smile; a smile that he hoped their daughter would have.  
  
“You can learn a lot of things from the flowers, especially in the month of June.”  
  
Slowly, Alice rose from the rocking chair, humming the last few notes of her song. Light footsteps took her toward the crib, where she now placed their sleeping baby down, bringing her stuffed rabbit closer to her. Only as Alice was leaning over the crib did Jefferson enter the room, stepping toward his love. Arms wrapped around Alice’s waist and she leaned back into his hold, resting her head against his shoulder.   
  
“I’m tired, Hatter…”  
  
“Bedtime for you too, love?”   
  
Alice nodded against him, with a soft whine of protest leaving her lips as his arms slipped from around her, only to then give a contented hum as he picked her up with barely any effort. Delicate, gentle hands clutched the fabric of his shirt. Alice nuzzled against her Hatter’s neck, breathing his scent, allowing him to carry her to their room. Though her Hatter’s hands were rough, scarred from slipping scissors and misjudged needles, he was always careful with her. He helped her out of her skirts and bodice and into nightwear, even taking the time to brush the curls of blonde that fell around Alice’s shoulders. His love was tucked into their bed, giving him a sleepy smile as blue eyes became harder to keep open.   
  
“Come to bed, Hatter.”   
  
Even Alice’s sleepy request was something he couldn’t refuse – then again, he could never refuse his Alice something. If she wanted it, Jefferson provided. The same approach would be taken with their daughter – ‘no’ wouldn’t be a word that he said to either of them. Slipping off his shoes, fingers started to unbutton the patterned fabric of his shirt.   
  
“Alice?”  
  
“Mm, love?”  
  
“I love you.”   
  
“I love you too, silly thing.” Alice’s tinkling laugh met his ears; a sound that was almost as beautiful as her singing. Hatter smiled, turning to kiss Alice’s forehead. She caught him by his shirt collar, giving him the most gentle and chaste of kisses.   
  
“Now come to bed, Hatter, and I’ll sing to you.”   
****

* * *

  
  
Hands trembled as they picked up the gurgling baby from the floor of the garden, making the tulips and daisies whine. Hatter hushed them, drawing out whimpers from the little girl in his arms.   
  
“Shh. Papa’s got you, sweetheart.”   
  
A little face pressed itself against his neck, forcing Jefferson to take a sharp intake of breath. Loud, thumping footsteps worked around the Hatter, with two sets of big, white ears coming up to his elbows.   
  
“Gentle now, Hatter. Baby has to sleep.”   
  
A soft voice reached his ears, with a paw coming to steady his shaking hands. Jefferson glanced to Mrs. Rabbit, while the White Rabbit himself hopped around the kitchen, trying to tidy up. The place looked like it had been ransacked, when in reality, there had only been Hatter there. Today was the first time the baby had been back at the Cottage since Alice.  
  
A lump in his throat formed, trying to blink back tears that threatened to fall.  
  
His Alice, his Curious Girl… She had been taken from him. All that was left of Alice now was the bundle in his arms, who was none the wiser to the passing of her mother.   
  
Brown eyes, curious, just like her mother’s had been, looked up to him, patting his face gently. He settled into the rocking chair with the help of Mrs. Rabbit, who stroked back his hair. One squeeze of his shoulder and she was gone, hopping out of the room. Hatter adjusted the bundle in his arms, getting her comfortable against him as he started to rock the chair. His daughter brought her hand to her mouth, sucking on her thumb while she waited.  
  
“I know, baby girl. You want Mama’s song.”   
  
The Cottage had been quiet since Alice. There were no songs; not even hums from the flowers. Hatter couldn’t take it. He couldn’t take hearing anything that reminded him of Alice – or having anything that reminded him of her. Her things were locked away and hidden, and their daughter left on the doorstep of the White Rabbit. She had been there only a week, but a week had been long enough. The Rabbit had told him that if Hatter didn’t come to get his daughter, then he would take her back to Alice’s world and leave her with the family that Alice had ran away from. Jefferson couldn’t do that. Not to the only piece of Alice he had left.   
  
“Little Bread-And-Butterflies kiss the tulips, and the sun is like a toy balloon…”   
  
_‘ There are get up in the morning glories, in the golden afternoon.’_  
  
He couldn’t help the sob that escaped him. Tears rolled down Jefferson’s face freely now, and he only tried to stop them so they didn’t fall onto the little face staring up at him, now with a little frown working onto her features that were so much like Alice’s. He couldn’t sing Alice’s song to their daughter. Not when there was so much pain shooting through him simply from hearing the sound of Alice’s voice, carefree and soothing, in the back of his mind. It was too difficult for him; too hard to try and use the words Alice once sung to their daughter to lull her to sweet sleep.  
  
“Papa’s s-sorry, Gr-ace… So sorry, b-aby gir-l.”   
  
Jefferson tried to steady his words as Grace squirmed in his arms, reaching her hand back up to him. Jefferson bent his head, kissing her palm instead. Brown eyes, ever curious, but now looking worried, seemed to be trying to find a way to help her Papa, having to wonder why he was crying so. He wiped his face once more, blinking as rapidly as he could to hold back the rest of the tears that threatened to fall. Grace’s little fingers wrapped around the tip of his index finger, bringing it to her mouth so she could chew it quietly. The Hatter struggled to keep a gentle tone, so that he didn’t worry his daughter any further.   
  
“I can’t sing to you, baby. I can’t… But Papa… He can tell you stories. Stories sound good, don’t they?”  
  
Grace merely looked at him; a similar look that her mother had given him so often. It brought a new wave of tears, but these ones he held back. He could wait. He needed to put his Grace to sleep.    
  
“Once there was a curious little girl. So very curious, and so very special. Her name was Alice, and…”  
  


* * *

  
Long after Grace had fallen asleep, Jefferson was still in the rocking chair. Tears had rolled freely down his face from the moment he had placed his daughter into her crib, until he had no more tears to cry. He simply sat there, rocking back and forth, keeping his eyes on the crib.  
  
How much of this he could do without Alice, he didn’t know. He didn’t know if he could raise their daughter alone, or even stay in Wonderland – their Wonderland. Their world. Their  _home_.   
  
Rubbing at sore, reddened eyes, another quiet sob ripped itself from his dry throat. Alice’s voice whispered to him, making him almost believe that she was standing right behind him, carding gentle hands through his hair.   
  
_‘ There’s a wealth of happiness and romance, all in the golden afternoon.’_


End file.
